#penance au

[sometimesanartdragon]

What if. What if Dreamtale had a different beginning?

It never made sense to me to have the tree of feelings life be directly connected to its guardian. Nor the guardian having to make their own replacements. So what if while Nim was dying from the attack on her and the tree... the tree defended itself and chose (aka forced) a new guardian into place.

this is a penance AU or a forced guardian of feelings AU. The man who killed Nim and tried to take from the tree is now bound to it forever. He has no choice but to protect the tree he tried to steal from.

Don't worry though the twins will still be a part of this story. Nim had no idea the tree would claim a new guardian and still desperately used her magic to make her "replacements" only this time they get a very exhausted dad to keep them safe while they help protect the tree of feelings

[aotearoa20]

Penance: Part One. One/Two/Three

The little messenger of the Valar was actually very lucky to have found them all together at the same time.

There were many rooms and long corridors in Mandos. Ambarussa had found Curufin in this one some time ago, on the small outcropping of rock by an underground waterfall. And he would not be moved. He sat with a form that was barely distinguishable and stared out at where the water hit the pool, causing a continuous spray of bioluminescence.

Caranthir had no intention of lingering beside his brother’s bitterness. He wandered, often to the Halls of Vaire. He met his grandmother and her handmaidens. Sometimes he looked for news in the tapestries. Sometimes he could persuade the solemn to give him work. They never let him do more than untangle threads but in a being barely corporeal, it was enough of a challenge to keep him for utter boredom.

Ambarussa wandered too, Amras trailing after his twin as he showed every nook and cranny left in the Halls. But they returned now and again, trying to coax their brothers into their explorations. Celegorm followed them once or twice but usually remained within eyeshot of the little room with the waterfall.

It was pure chance that Caranthir had ended at back there at the same time as the twins and nothing was said of it. They didn’t speak all that much, well, save Amrod who never really stopped. He seemed scared of the empty space.

Mandos is quiet. For weary broken souls, the silence is a balm. A space to reorient and to heal. But Amrod has long come to terms with himself. Amrod is long healed and Caranthir knows the dark quiet has been smothering him. He thinks he may go mad and could almost laugh at the irony.

A light appeared in the doorway and it was strange. There was light down here. Green flamed lamps and plants that glowed hues of violet and blue. But this was different. This was warm and too bright for his imagined eyes. The figure obscured its glare was tangible enough for his footsteps to echo.

"What news, friend?" Amrod smiled.

Caranthir shivered. It’s eerie the ease with which Amrod could speak with Namo’s Maiar. Their presence still filled him witth a sense of dread, though this one didn’t seem to. Celegorm stood as it drew near but made no move towards it. There was somethingwrong about it. It was too bright, too solid -

“I’m looking for Maedhros Fëanorian.”

There was a beat of silence before Amrod grinned, “You are not dead”

There was a excitement in his voice that sounded nearly like a threat. The stranger lowered the lamp and as his face came into view, Caranthir was almost certain he knew him.

“Lúthien,” he heard Celegorm whisper and with that he was certain.

“You’re Elros’ brother” he said as he rose to his feet. The elf opened his mouth to reply but for a moment no words come out. As if he didn’t know where to pursue his first question or ask a new one.

“He came this way before he left.” Caranthir continued making the choice for him, “He also asked for Nelyo.”

“I am Elrond Peredhel.”

Half Elven. Dior’s grandson. He would have been the Prince of Doriath if fate and his family had been kinder.

“But you are not following him?”

He would have assumed so. He knew their own twins dealt ill with being parted. Elros had not stayed long. Caranthir’s remembered thinking of asking him to carry a message to the otherside. Perhaps he should have.

But it would appear this one was not bound for the Doors of Night. Amrod was right, he was still living and evenso he could sense a solidness to his fëa that his brother did not have.

“No.”

“What do you want?,” Curufin's voice cut sharp from his little crevice of stone.

“To speak with Maedhros.” Elrond replied, undeterred by the coldness of it. 

“Why?”

Caranthir took a breath he didn’t need, ready to defend the poor boy from whatever was about to leave his brother’s mouth when they were both silenced.

“Elrond?”

They all turned to the shadowed door.

Maedhros had arrived so close to fading, they feared they would lose him forever. Even now his fëa was barely a wisp of a thing. It was as if the darkness had found a voice.

“So for this one he’ll appear, but we are not so worthy,” Celegorm doesn’t quite growl but Caranthir elbowed him as hard as an incorporeal spirit can elbow another. He might scare Nelyo away for another hundred years.

“Maedhros…” Elrond began, the word hung in the air a moment before he shook his head and looked away, “I have petitioned the Valar for your release.”

“Little pity,” Amras echoed softly.

Elrond turned to the voice and nodded, “but not none at all, I have come to you all with a proposition”

“All of us?” Celegorm said in surprise, he like the rest, assumed any bargaining would be for Nelyo alone. But the half-elf smiled and went to sit on a small shelf of rock. His grip on the lamp shook faintly as he placed it down.

He took a breath and said, “The Valar, Namo especially, have no desire to keep you in here until the world’s breaking. Some of you have been in these Halls longer than Morgoth himself and your crimes though terrible could not be counted as worse than his.”

Caranthir didn’t intend to laugh, but Celegorm chuckled beside him and he found he could not help himself.

“Even so,” Elrond stared at them both unimpressed, “There are many who would argue most of the great woes of the world came to being at Morgoth’s first release and the Valar would have you free to sow discord in Aman. If you were to return there would be conditions.”

Unease shivered through his fëa. Caranthir wasn’t sure he wanted to know of whatever deal Elrond teased out of the Valar. Return would be a curse while the Oath hung over them. Here at least it slept once they realised there could be no escape from the Halls. Better they languish here until Maglor deigned to joined them, and with him any chance of reclaiming the last of their own. And then to Darkness, whatever that entailed. Compared to rhe alternative it would be a relief.

Not that he didn’t appreciate the boy’s efforts. Misguided though they were he had no reason to go through the trouble. It was sweet really.

“You would be put under the responsibility of one of the Valar and under their service – ”

Never mind, he was a petty bastard. Caranthir almost respected him for it. He laughed again, harsh and deliberate. This had to be a joke.

“That’s no reprieve, it is another prison.” Curufin had no face with which to glare. The flickering mist the made him up seemed to pulse and condense in on itself.

“But we could be free of this place.” Amras muttered, wincing more out of habit than anything else as his twin gripped his shoulder.

“To what end?” Curufin hissed, “Are we to be thralls until the end of time?”

“The Valar agreed they would be poor judges of the length of such service. A small council was appointed to judge when it would be safe for you to be left free and unchecked. Olwë, Elwing and Nimloth. Idril also was asked but she said would trust in the wisdom of the three.”

“Then we should be slaves forever! Who would agree to such a bargain?!”

More was said, by most of them, with far less grace. Caranthir himself had no desire to be the lackey of any of the Powers. He was quite comfortable down here, awaiting their doom in his own dread and despair and he was more happy to explain that to the little upstart.

Elrond sat patient enough until their protests died down.

“I have spoken with my father,” he said, quietly softly now, his eyes landed on each of them, “He said if you would agree to these terms, he would return to you the last of the Silmarils for as long as it was necessary to release from your Oath.”

The silence that fell was black and cloying. Maedhros had told them he and Maglor had watched over the peredhel twins for a time. He’d said little more, only to get him off his case, the last time they had been visited by other. Given the extent the Oath had ravaged him by the time he arrived here, they all gathered that it would not have been a pleasant experience for any involved.

He studied the boy’s gentle expression. Did he know the power he held over them all in a single sentence? He must. He must know he could get them to agree to anything for the sake of that offer. It would be a fitting and complete vengeance for this prince of the Sindar to hold the fate of them all at his mercy. Except he couldn’t align such cunning with the person before him.

And for all the humiliation being at the beck and call of the Valar would be, given the truly limitless possibilities, it was a fairly tame punishment. Perhaps it would have to be for the Powers to agree to it.

“What of our father?” Celegorm said suddenly, his voice strangely void of its usual elegance, “and Maglor, we don’t even know where he is.”

“This offer is open to all of you, I can go no further into Mandos like this but Namo said he would speak to Feanor” Elrond sighed, “As for Maglor, he is found. He rests in my house.”

“Is he alright.” Maedhros asked in a tight voice.

“He is not,” Elrond replied and for some strange reason he seemed grieved, “He will not allow himself to be helped but has conceded to follow whichever fate you choose. I... it is not a choice to taken lightly, but please don’t tarry, for his sake.”

“We will do it,” Curufin spoke up. He paid no heed to the stared that stares leveled his way, instead he turned to Maedhros, “We have to don’t we? What use is there debating it?"

Maedhros sighed so deeply him might have dissipated himself into dust. But he nodded and all at once Caranthir’s grip on eternity pitched once again. He had half a mind to resist it. He did not have to agree to this deal that he had not hand in shaping or bargaining. There were too many loop holes that could be explored and exploited both ways. But a familiar heaviness gripped him and turned his tongue to lead. He could not risk Elrond recinding his offer by asking too many questions.

The smile on the half elf’s face was drenched with relief. If he didn’t know better Caranthir would have thought the lantern itself shone brighter at the news. He couldn’t fathom why. His head hurt, so little has happened for so long, for everything he knew to change once more! But to be free... Such hope was as sharp as a knife pericing the depths of his fea. He tore it out and shook his head. Free to do what?

[paxopalotls]

The fanfictions are infecting me with brainrot oh my god have some au doodles before I explode

[ffverr]

Ffverr Presents: X-Corp!

A HUGE thanks to my darling friends who made this insanity with me!! I love ya guys💜 @quilledge @quicks1lver-stuff @mkaystinks @caelumsthelimit @telepathlover

[shirojikimattari]

Banned from Umbrella

The Shadowheart nun AU is getting out of hand in the server and I intend to do nothing about it.

As the saying goes: It takes a server to raise a blasphemous AU.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 38

Jaskier has kept a secret for years. The ring with dandelions carved into it that he wears every second of every day is the only thing keeping him from turning into ash. He sleeps with a lovely woman one night, desperately trying to move on from Geralt (it doesn't work, he is still very much in love with his best friend) only to awake in the morning and find- FUCK She stole his ring! That conniving little-! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What does he do!? He races to the mirror and it confirms his worst fear. The glamour the ring gives him is gone. He can't see his reflection. He reaches a hand up to his mouth and feels his fangs. No- Nonono! Then his worst fucking nightmare ON TOP of his worst nightmare happens. He hears the stomping footsteps of a witcher approaching their room. Godsdamn it all. He hears the doorknob jiggle and.. Alright, he'll be the first to admit it, he panics. "DON'T COME IN, GERALT" The doorknob jiggling pauses. "Jaskier? Are you alright?" "Y- YES! Perfectly peachy! Don't come in!" Jaskier rushes around the room, pacing in panicked circles like a caged beast. He was a caged beast. He reaches to close the curtains of the only window in the room and like an idiot, he fumbles in place and ends up with his hand in the direct sunlight. He shrieks in pain and holds his hand to his chest. Geralt, scenting agony and hearing Jaskier yell, barges in without another moment of thought. Only to see Jaskier scrambling away from him in fear. In all his years of knowing Jaskier, he has NEVER been afraid of him. It physically pains Geralt to see it now. He doesn't understand why he wasn't allowed in. There's no lover of Jaskier's hiding in a corner embarrassed at being caught, Jaskier isn't indecent or anything, so why-? Then he looks at Jaskier, truly looks at him, and sees his blue eyes are glowing, and his mouth - Parted open as he pants - reveals fangs. Geralt's eyes dart to Jaskier's neck and it's confirmed. The worst part of it all, is the way Jaskier's eyes keep glancing between the door out of the room, and Geralt's silver sword. Geralt is infuriated. Not only did the woman Jaskier take to bed last night turn Jaskier into a vampire, but she also made Jaskier fear Geralt because of it. When Geralt says he isn't going to harm (let alone KILL like Jaskier had feared) Jaskier for the twentieth time, Jaskier finally believes him, and begs him to help him track the woman down. Geralt is intent on killing the vampire that ruined poor young human Jaskier's life. Jaskier is intent on getting his human-glamour, sunlight-immunity-enchantment ring back from this human he slept with, so he can go back to pretending he's human, like he has been doing for the past hundred or so years.

[cuppajj]

I was looking back at some asks and saw how Saint Vanilla plans to purify himself after he purifies everybody- and- is the poor guy suicidal..? Like I know in his eyes it probably isn’t because it’s ’purification’ but my poor bud, my poor pal if he is. And if he isn’t, I’d love to honestly see what he is! you made Saint such a complex but SUCH a lovely character that gets my lore brain tingling.

The thought process is more possible than you think… At the very least, the beast certainly seems to feel a little envy for those he purifies. I wonder if he sees that final outcome differently for himself than everyone else?

Do you think that he sees doing himself away as atonement for everything he’ll do?

[microwavablefork]

OKAYY WE’RE KINDA COOKING HERE?! They’re actually consuming my mind I need to come up with an au name…

in reference to this post

[m-u-n-c-h-y]

Date night with the boys~

Penance belongs to @cosmic-darikano

[justastrugglinghotchocolate]

This is the beginning of the book/The Losing Game Dorian. Everything in his design is meant to emphasize his youth—I actually used fashion plates from the Met of victorian boys clothing as reference for his outfit here.

Dorian, unlike Basil, effortlessly sticks out and doesn’t mind it. Regardless of if he wears what everyone else does or if he chooses to experiment, he is simply eye-catching. I hinted at this with the simple splash of blue on his bowtie, which also adds to his more childish nature.

I’ve said it before, but I do not blame Dorian at the beginning of the book for any of the shit that happened to him. He was a mentally still a teenager and was taken advantage of. I’m going with ‘Henry does a dumb thing because being a toxic ex was on his 1890 bingo card’ version of events for my modern reimaging au. My version of Henry knowingly used Dorian to get back at Basil. In particular, he fully lead Dorian on—having had no interest in him outside of fucking with Basil which just messed up Dorian even more. He was absolutely devasted once he discovered that.

In lighter news, TLG Dorian avoided corruption from Henry because he has somewhat of an attention deficit and when Henry was talking about youth and stuff, he was hyper focused on the bumblebee in the garden. This resulted in him catching like 15% of what Henry said and assuming Henry was saying art lasts forever and therefore he (Dorian) should be a composer. Henry was too stunned to speak. Dorian took that as confirmation he was right XD

[nonas-third-tantrum]

Re: TLT x twitter- How many followers does everyone have at this point? I feel like Harrow has a lot, entirely against her will

good question! i did make a follower count post at one point, which you can find here, but apparently that was all the way back in february so an update is definitely warranted! this got out of hand so warning: long post ahead

gideon - 1100 followers on her private account, 3500 on her public account. she lost followers on the public account for accidentally retweeting risque art. she'll claim that the steep decline in new followers is because she locked her account and is more judicious in accepting follow requests, but in reality she wasn't consistently funny enough to gain new followers.

harrow - 11 followers (gideon, pal, cam, magnus, abigail, dulcinea, pyrrha, nona, coronabeth, ianthe, john). she would have a lot more but she blocks everyone who tries. she and ianthe are not mutuals.

palamedes (official) - well over 5k due to the popularity of the fake account, but steadily declining as followers get tired of his endless academic threads.

palamedes (sexpal69) - a good 7k, despite the fact that this account has not tweeted in months. followers hold out hope.

camilla - even fewer than harrow. unlike harrow, she just denies follow requests instead of blocking them. some speculate that she has a secret account where she posts thirst traps

pyrrha - a healthy 400 on her main account, an undisclosed number on her private account. cam and pal follow the private account, but they will neither confirm nor deny what she posts on there

ianthe - more than harrow, but not much more. definitely a few bots in there. a few thousand on her official Crown Prince account, but many of those followers insist they never followed her and are unable to unfollow.

john - everyone automatically follows him when they make an account. this is irreversible and the most frequently reported bug

coronabeth - 10k and counting. she's 100% running a pyramid scheme but who's gonna stop her?

abigail and magnus - abigail has more followers, but magnus doesn't mind. he's so proud of his wife (she has 200 followers and they both think this is a lot)

nona - same as john, except no one is mad about it

mercymorn - 3 followers: john, ianthe, and nona. augustine made an account and never used it but she blocked him anyway. she regularly tries to block john and ianthe and gets an error message every time. almost exclusively retweets aesthetic pictures with the occasional rant peppered in

[bvckbiter]

fav thing to torment smartwatermagic with? :D

it’s al’s self-destructiveness. ALWAYS. he drags himself out of their web because he feels like he has to then can’t help but return anyway. they’re angry, but they’ll put away their anger because it’s what they signed up for, then feel guilty about being angry. then al will feel guilty about them being guilty. rinse and repeat

[aotearoa20]

Penance: Part Two. One/Two/Three

There is a part of Este’s gardens that bleeds into Mandos. Silvery trees that line a small path up to the great stone doors. It is on one of the Halls uppermost levels and most fëar avoid it if they can. Curufin could understand why. He felt ill and unsteady in the pale half-light, it was too close for the dead to be to the living. A thin, shimmering barrier lopes over him and his brothers and everything on the other side in blurred just slightly. He could just about see a Maia clad in grey approaching and with him a tall dark figure.

“Maglor,” he whispered because he could not help it. Because his spirit sang at the sight of his elder brother and there was nothing in him that could stop it. Everything is transparent in Mandos. He heard the others shuffling and sighing behind him. It had been so long.

He could not wring his hands - they kept flickering in and out of existence - but he watched them spoke to one another. Their words melted against the barrier, a useless hum of noise but he seemed alright. Damned spawn of Lúthien had had them worried over nothing. Celegorm called over to him and Maglor turned his head. He nodded slowly but before he could say a word a flash of light from further down the path stole all their attention.

Someone else, came forward out of the trees. Curufin could not have recognized them, even if he tried. How could he when in their hands, bright and clear and sharper than anything else he’d seen in the suffocating dark, he could see it. The last of their Father’s Silmarils.

He shuddered and hated himself for it. Behind him someone, Amras maybe, whined like a wounded animal. It was so close. Without much thought he reached forward, the edges of his fingers dissolving as they brush against the boundary line. A hand comes up and grips his shoulder. Caranthir, he knew, they all remember the last time they tried to escape through here.

He doesn’t even know his name, the one who held the gem, but he came up to Maglor and the Maia. He spoke even as his brother trembled, taut as a bowstring. A sudden fear gripped his heart. The constant pressence of the oath had been a companion of his for as long as he could remember. He had carried it’s burden until the scraps of the person were burnt to dust. If this was really the end – if, for he has lived far too long in the world not to suspect this to be another trick of fate – would there be anything left of him at all.

“It will kill him,” Maedhros’ voice was deep and dull.

By the edge of the doorway Namo stands, two Maiar are at his side. All but his eyes are obscured behind a veil and they are fixed on Maglor.

“If he does we shall be there.” He replied gently.

And then the stranger holds out what is all in all a very simple circlet, with the jewel fastened to it. Maglor snatched it into himself and wails. Námo’s Maiar brush past him, catching his brothers fëa brefore his body hits ground.

Curufin tried to speak. He reached out again, this time for Maglor. He thinks he might have screamed too. For a moment everything burns. It is as though something is ripping out his heart and every artery that grows off from it, carefully and cleanly as pulling the backbone from a fish. He falls to his barely corporeal knees and thinks he must be coming undone entirely and then... nothing.

He put his hand to his chest. A sob caught in his throat. There is nothing there. Beside him Morifinwë was also crying, but he takes deep needless breaths in between. When he looked he saw a light in his eyes that he knew died in his own, centuries ago. Curufin looked back down at the slate shards that line the garden path. Tears dry on his lashes. He felt nothing.

“So the agreement is sealed,” Námo said, as Maglor was ushered into the dark, “When you are remebodied in the Gardens, there will be someone to guide you to those you will serve.”

“To whom will we be going?” Celegorm spoke up.

“It has not been decided, you will learn once you wake.”

“Don’t separate Ambrassua.” Maedhros very nearly ordered.

Námo nodded and looked across them all, “You are not obliged to leave now, some of you I’d even counsel to remain a while longer.”

His eyes land on him and Curufin seethed. He crossed his arms over himself, trying to cover up the gaping emptiness within his being. How he hated this place. Hated being forced to take any sort of form. He was exposed. Everyone could see everything. Or the severe lack of anything.

A body at least could hide the lack. No, He would not stay here to be mocked or pitied or worse, not for all the jewels under the Earth.

“We will go together.” He heard Maedhros say and nodded vehemently. Whatever waited out in the Gardens had to be better than this.

[teecupangel]

Ok so Desmond having Ghost Riders abilities would cool be right? But! What if his bleeds also have those abilities? As in his bleeds appear like that one memory in Revelations where Altaïr used those ghost(?) assassin's and stuff

Oooohhhh. I know Ghost Rider has more abilities but all this gave me an idea of using the Penance Stare as some kind of Eagle Vision mutation that only happens to the bloodlines that would lead to Desmond.

And their version of the Penance Stare is that they’re able to keep their target in place so they can assassinate them.

That’s because their version of the Penance Stare is incomplete, their Isu genes not enough to fully use the Penance Stare.

For a centuries, the Penance Stare is considered to simply be a mythical ability that can paralyze someone who has stared into the eyes of an Assassin with an Eagle Vision.

Some even try to rationalize it as just the target seeing an Assassin and being frozen in fear.

Then…

Desmond starts to Bleed and he received the Penance Stare.

He could feel it. There’s something missing in the stare even as he used it to stop Cross from moving or speaking.

There was something missing.

Even when he used it together with the Apple to keep Vidic in place while the Apple controls the guards to shoot him.

There was still…

Something missing.

But he didn’t found an answer.

Because the world needed him to die in its place.

And he did as was required of him because the alternative was simply too much.

So no one was more surprised than him when he woke in an autopsy room.

And that’s when the Penance Stare finally showed its true form.

But it wasn’t Desmond’s stare at forced the doctor who was about to dissect him to fall to his knees, begging forgiveness as all the pain and suffering he inflicted on the innocents start to bombard his very mind, forcing him to relive all the pain and suffering he had caused before.

No.

Desmond could see them.

The stares…

… of his Bleeds standing all around him.

Staring at the doctor as they silently judged him.

.

.

So in this idea, Desmond can’t do the Penance Stare, it’s his Bleeds who surrounds him like ghosts haunting him. No one can see his Bleeds but, if they do, they are subjected to the Penance Stare.

Desmond has no control over who is able to see them, other than the fact that the Penance Stare seemed to be targeting people with ‘sins’ in general which is bad since the Assassins aren’t sinless so Desmond is forced to not show himself to any of his friends and the other Assassins in fear of hitting them with the Penance Stare by mistake. This means that there are many Assassins who are suspicious of his strange man saying he’s Desmond but something’s wrong with his Eagle Vision and Bleeds and it’s dangerous to meet with him face to face.

So now… Desmond is left more or less alone, trying to find more information about where Juno is right now and what she’s trying to do while…

Well…

Accidentally (or maybe not) taking down Abstergo personnel and Templars who have ‘sinned’.

[devilatelier]

evil baby.

[ask--shattered-kingdom]

Been thinking any about how Captain would probably fit into the Epic Sanses a lot better than the Star Sanses (if he would join a group at all. Honestly i think he might rather form his own Sans group, although outside of Penance (another *kind of* oc) i don't know who would be in it.